


Adore

by sciencefictioness



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Bottom Victor Nikiforov, Breathplay, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Dom Katsuki Yuuri, M/M, Probably Too Cheesy For Some Kinky Shit, Safewords, Sorry Not Sorry, Sub Victor Nikiforov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 01:54:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8948998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciencefictioness/pseuds/sciencefictioness
Summary: His collar sat on his throat right where it belonged, making his eyes go half lidded and his body relax even before they started.  The soft fur on his skin, the metallic sound of the ring, that first pull as Yuuri snaked a finger through it and tugged…He was halfway to subspace already, and then Yuuri pet his hair and called him pretty and Viktor nuzzled into his hand and whined like an animal.





	

**Author's Note:**

> 'I'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck, or I did last time I checked.'
> 
> I usually like all my BDSM Safe, Sane, and Consensual, but this is where sinmother harshes your buzz and tells you there is no one hundred percent safe, sane way to do breathplay. There are 'safer' ways, but nothing risk free. You want to put pressure on the sides of the throat, not the center, because you can hurt someone very easily that way. Only cut off the air in short bursts. They call it 'breathplay', and the lack of air, or the idea of the lack of air, is what some people get off on, but you're actually causing a blood choke when you do it. The lack of blood to the brain is what causes that floaty, stoned sort of feeling. But you're cutting off air too. Do that for too long and you've got brain damage, so be as safe as you can, or leave the breathplay for the kinky fic and art.
> 
> Okay I'm done scolding you, please enjoy...

No matter where he started, Viktor always ended up in the same place.  It was comforting somehow, a soothing predictability.  However badly he got lost in his head, however far he strayed from where he meant to go, he never failed to find his way here.  His way  _ home, _ but home wasn’t four particular walls or a specific address.  It wasn’t anywhere that could be sealed up with a lock, opened again with a key.

 

Home was underneath Yuuri, wherever he might be, spread out like an offering.   Naked and gasping and beautifully helpless, with Yuuri’s skin warm against his own, sweat slick and flushed and smelling like something Viktor’s lust addled mind wanted to call adoration.  As if worship had a scent.  It didn’t, but after spending enough time breathing Yuuri in with those dark eyes tearing him apart, staring at Viktor like he was worth something more than just a pile of medals or a page of statistics to overcome, the response was Pavlovian.   Viktor inhaled their heat, Yuuri’s own essence laced with sweat and sex, and he automatically thought,  _ yes. _

 

_ Yuuri needs me, Yuuri wants me.   _

 

_ This is what longing smells like. _

 

Nobody could look at someone else that way and not be in love.  He took off Viktor’s clothes like he was unwrapping a gift, something fragile and crystalline and priceless that he wanted to keep safe.  Yuuri put his hands on Viktor like he was made of gold, eyes roving across him like he was a work of art, like he needed to drink him in and discover his meaning.

 

Then he fucked him into their mattress like he’d never get another chance, fingers bruising on Viktor’s hips and thighs, teeth sharp on his throat and insatiable against his lips, until Viktor couldn’t remember his own name.

 

This was home, muscles trembling and mouth open, totally at Yuuri’s mercy.  Sometimes he was more merciful than others.  Viktor liked it best when he was savage, if he was being honest, but either way Yuuri never failed to leave him breathless.

 

Especially breathless this time, if Viktor got his what he wanted.  He’d been a good boy for Yuuri during their previous scene.  Always was, but he’d worked extra hard to earn what he was after, something inside him coming alive at the idea of performing perfectly for Yuuri and Yuuri alone.  His collar sat on his throat right where it belonged, making his eyes go half lidded and his body relax even before they started.  The soft fur on his skin, the metallic sound of the ring, that first pull as Yuuri snaked a finger through it and  _ tugged _ …

 

He was halfway to subspace already, and then Yuuri pet his hair and called him pretty and Viktor nuzzled into his hand and whined like an animal.

 

Viktor had begged in his neediest voice, and swallowed Yuuri’s cock like he was starved for it, choking on him until tears ran from his eyes and then not letting a drop escape when Yuuri spilled into his mouth.  He’d kissed Yuuri’s palms, sucked on his fingers, kept perfectly still while Yuuri worked him open.  

 

Viktor had gotten on his hands and knees and counted out strikes in perfect Japanese,  _ ichi, ni, san, shi... _  He’d safeworded once, calling yellow when Yuuri’s hand fell just right on his skin and his fingers pulled just so on Viktor’s hair and he almost came then and there.  But he didn’t have permission, and he wanted to please his sir.

 

Yuuri let him come anyway, and cleaned him up, and lavished him in praises.  _  ‘You were so good, Viten’ka, such a good boy.  I love you.’ _

 

Viktor had looked up at him through lashes wet with tears, streaks shining on his cheeks, lips bright red and swollen.  Yuuri put lip balm on them, fingertips lingering on Viktor’s abused mouth even as he spoke in a soft, tentative voice.

 

_ ‘I… I was good, I was- you said I was good.  Next time, can we?’ _

 

_ ‘Next time.  I promise’ _

 

Now he was on his back in their bed, legs splayed wide, fingers fisted in the sheets.  Yuuri gazed down at him with that expression he always wore, like Viktor had saved the world, hung the stars, fueled the sun.  Like there was nothing else worth looking at, and Viktor shuddered under the weight of those infinite eyes.  Shivered at the sensation of Yuuri seated deep inside him, hips rocking idly in tortuous little circles.

 

Quaked at the feel of Yuuri’s hands wrapped around his throat, the heels of his palms situated on either side of his neck, fingertips lacing together under his long, tangled hair.  There was the slightest pressure, not nearly enough, but a hint of what was to come.  Not a threat.

 

A promise.

 

Yuuri rutted into him, a teasing, grinding thrust that had Viktor arching his back and biting his lip, brows furrowed with the need for more.

 

“Still green?”  Yuuri asked, even if he already knew the answer.  Viktor nodded, fast, hair falling down over one of his eyes.  “Get your hands up, then.  They drop, I stop, understand?”  He nodded again, forcing his fingers to unknot from the sheets and close around Yuuri’s biceps instead.  “I need words here, precious.”  Viktor tightened his grip on Yuuri’s arms for a moment, appreciating the feel of his muscles under his hands, the way they flexed and shifted.

 

“Yes, sir.  I understand.”   

 

Yuuri fucked into him slow, pulling out until he was barely inside anymore and then sliding forward again.  Viktor watched him smile, felt Yuuri’s thumbs caressing the underside of his jaw as he began moving in earnest.  It was an effort to keep his palms in place, because he wanted to drag them all over Yuuri, or bite down on his fingers, or take himself in hand.  Something to ground himself, because Yuuri was everywhere.  Strong thighs spread between his own to hold him open, those eyes on him burning like fire.  Lithe fingers wrapped around his neck, pressing just a bit harder, smile going predatory and-

 

“Deep breath, love.”

 

Viktor sucked in a desperate lungful of air, the sound ringing like a gasp through the room, and then Yuuri’s hands were a vice on his throat.  His shaft twitched against his stomach with the need to be touched as Yuuri took him in earnest.  Viktor slid up the mattress, the force of Yuuri’s hips driving him higher and higher on the bed.

 

His body fought for air instinctively, air he didn’t really want right then as the world went hazy around him.  The drag of Yuuri inside him was too hot, too perfect, and he could hear him murmuring praise but couldn’t process the exact words.  The tone was enough, though.  Worshipful.  Loving.  Everything Viktor was went soft and proud and preening at the sound,  _ good boy, I’m a good boy, I’m- _

 

Yuuri’s hands on his throat were loose for an instant, and he heaved in half a breath before they closed tight again.  Blocking out his air, blocking out everything besides  _ Yuuri, my Yuuri,  _ please  _ Yuuri.   _ Viktor writhed on Yuuri’s cock, and if he’d been able to breathe, he was sure the noises he made would be obscene.  They were in his throat, in his chest, in his lungs, his very being whimpering and overwhelmed.  

 

The pattern was punishing but delicious, the grip on his throat falling away long enough for Viktor to choke down a breath before Yuuri’s fingers wrapped him up tight again.  Tight, loose, tight, loose, until Viktor lived only for the flex of those hands on his skin.  He felt his fingertips fluttering against Yuuri’s biceps, threatening to fall, and he sank them in brutally.  Unwilling to relent, not yet, not when his whole body was strung tight on the edge of orgasm.  Set alight and tensing and  _ close, so close… _

 

Yuuri bent himself in half, forehead laid against Viktor’s frantic heartbeat, hips moving violently as he mouthed, mindless, over Viktor’s skin.  His hair tickled Viktor’s collarbones, and his breath was warm as he panted harshly into Viktor’s oversensitive flesh.  

 

Viktor was floating through a haze of gray when he came.  Viciously hard, Yuuri’s hands dropping to allow him to scream out something broken and unintelligible as air finally filled his lungs.  He gasped as he came, Yuuri pulsing hot inside him in staccato bursts, stuttering out Viktor’s name.  

 

Long fingers stroked soothingly over his aching throat as Yuuri worked them both through the rush of euphoria, followed by his lips.  He dusted gentle kisses where the imprints of his hands lingered red and accusing, nosing at them, a little whining sound coming out of his throat unbidden.  Viktor couldn’t help but smile, wrenching his hands off Yuuri’s arms to stroke through his wild hair.

 

“Thank you, sir.”  

 

Yuuri whimpered in answer, face buried in Viktor’s throat just beneath his ear.  Viktor laughed, scratching at his head, lifting his shaking thighs up to curl them around Yuuri.

 

“It’s okay, Yuuri.”  

 

Yuuri nodded into Viktor’s shoulder, still petting apologetically at his throat and jaw and mouth without looking.  He didn’t have and trouble tying Viktor up, teasing him, spanking him until his ass was painted red.  Yuuri could pull his hair, and fuck his face, and wring orgasms out of until he was weeping and overstimulated, all without feeling guilty.  Viktor asked for it, all of it, and Yuuri loved giving him what he wanted.

 

Especially when he asked from his knees in that keening voice of his, twisted up an octave with lust from whatever paces Yuuri was putting him through.

 

Something about cutting off his air was different, at least in the aftermath.   While it was happening, everything was fine.  But then Yuuri saw the marks he left around Viktor’s throat afterwards, his grip etched unmistakably, if temporarily, in the skin, and felt sort of monstrous.

 

Viktor loved it, intensely, so they compromised.  He had to earn it, plead for it, wait for it.

 

And then when they were through Yuuri would fawn over him for days, and Viktor would let him without complaint.  When Yuuri finished kissing the pink out of his throat and carried him to the bathtub, Viktor melted in his arms.  Demanded a bath bomb, _ no not that one, the one with the glitter that smells like roses and could you bring me some ice water with lemon, Yuuri, please… _

 

The more he whined after a scene, the more he made demands, the more he made Yuuri wait on him hand and foot, the happier Yuuri seemed to be.  So Viktor had Yuuri rub lotion on him, and condition his hair, combing the long strands until they shone like silk.  He insisted on being carried back to bed, even if his muscles had long since recovered, just to be needy.

 

Yuuri tucked them both in together.  Called him a princess, a smile on his lips, and turned out the light.

 

His ‘I love you’ was a kiss, light and sweet on Viktor’s cheek, the moment before they fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I feed off your comments. The more I get, the more fuel I have to write you more dom yuuri, so....


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